


Who Says It Ever Has To End?

by stargirl_caraway



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mild Angst, hints of Barry's pining, young!westallen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8823454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargirl_caraway/pseuds/stargirl_caraway
Summary: Quick fic about Barry and Iris being sad about having to separate when Barry goes away for college. They share a bit of a moment toward the end when Barry almost confesses his true feelings for her.





	

They’re inseparable their last summer together before college. A wordless agreement passes between them that if they’re both home, they are only a few feet from one another, even if they aren’t interacting at all. Most of the time this means that Barry is sprawled out on her bed (she refuses to set foot in his room unless he cleans it) with a book, usually sci-fi, while she sits at her computer interacting with fandoms and lurking on forums. They hold intermittent conversations when something comes to mind, but for the most part they’re content to just enjoy one another’s presence.

They’ve both held summer jobs since they were 15, and usually the money and chance to get out of the house are welcome. But once it looks like they’re going to be kept apart by conflicting schedules for three months, there’s another unspoken agreement by July.

Iris secretly rides around with Barry as he makes pizza deliveries all night, singing along with him at the top of her lungs to top 40 songs and debating with him about anything and everything until a six hour shift feels like twenty minutes. If she’s really tired from her own job, too tired to sing or keep up the witty banter, she’s lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine and of Barry quietly humming under his breath.

Chain book stores are practically meant for hanging around, Barry thinks. He visits her at her job once and stays until the end of her shift, and then it does it again the next day and the next until it’s a pretty regular occurrence, though she’s usually too busy working to do more than touch his shoulder as she walks by him sitting on an armchair and reading some nerdy science book. Sometimes she looks up from talking to a customer or shelving new arrivals, and he’s already gazing at her. They share a shy smile or make silly faces at each other. Or they both think of what they’re avoiding saying aloud, and their faces look pained, even as the corners of their mouths turn upward.

And so the summer flies by in a blur of movie nights and laughter and _Barry_ and _Iris_ until they are almost one person. In the beginning everyone notices, but by the end what they notice is the presence of one but the absence of the other.

“You two haven’t been this attached at the hip since Barry’s first summer here,” Joe observes one day as he walks into the living room and sees them spending one of their rare days off eating Chinese food and playing cards on the floor in front of the couch.

They look at him in unison, then at each other, then back at their cards.  Neither knows how to respond. They only know that this isn’t the right time to talk about it, what has hung over them for the entire summer.

“Well, you know…my other friends are all too busy or on vacation, and Barry lives right here,” Iris tells her dad.

Barry looks at her, surprised by the statement and trying to hide his slightly wounded expression.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees. “Same here.”

Joe only gives them one of his knowing looks where he raises his eyebrows, clearly thinking _Really_?

The pair plays the rest of the card game in near silence, both preoccupied with the thought that the other has only been hanging out with them because they didn’t have a choice. Barry wonders if all those times Iris tagged along with him on his pizza runs were merely because her friends haven’t been around, and not because, like him, it feels like time is running out.

“So…,” Iris begins, shuffling the cards after an uncharacteristically gracious win. “Sucks that Dylan and those guys haven’t been able to hang out with you this summer. I mean, you’re probably really bored spending all your time with just me.”

Barry chuckles nervously and scratches the nape of his neck. “Well, I mean, they’re around. I’ve seen them a few times when you were at work, but I guess I just prefer hanging out with you.”

At his words her face lights up and she looks less timid when she tells him, “Oh, okay, me too—I mean I see the girls sometimes, but I would rather just chill out with you too.”

The next game is played with their usual gusto, trash talk and shouts renewed by their reassurances.

***

With each passing day time seems to move faster and faster until Barry and Iris are grasping at every second. Their time together takes on an urgent quality in those last two or three weeks until they stay up talking as long as they can every single night.

One evening they decide that they have to go to bed so that Iris can actually function at work in the morning. Barry slowly slides on his socks that he had kicked off at some point, and lingers at her bookcase, running his fingers over the titles he’s seen a million times before.

When he finally turns around, he’s resigned to leave.

 “Um, goodnight. I’ll see you in—“

“Stay,” Iris interrupts. “I mean—you can stay if you want. We can have a sleepover,” she says, her eyes slightly widened with hope.

He takes a step toward her before pausing and remembering. “I don’t think Joe would—‘

“My dad understands.”

And that’s that. Every night he changes into his pajamas, grabs his comforter and a pillow, and he sleeps on her bedroom floor. Iris insists that her bed is big enough for the both of them, but Barry doesn’t want to risk having in awkward situation involving her body and something happening in his pants. Besides, Joe can only understand so much.

***

Barry doesn’t have to look toward the sound of the backdoor opening. He knows it’s Iris before he hears her soft voice.

“I thought I might find you here.”

The backyard doesn’t get much use these days with the exception of the occasional barbeque or, like now, melancholy stargazing. When they were kids they were both involved in scouts for a few months, and they had shared the obsession with camping and everything having to do with nature. It had been disappointing to find out that their scouts never went on any trips together, so Joe had to take them camping a few times. He was often busy with detective work though, so they would convince him, through incessant begging, to let them camp in the backyard. They didn’t get to do the whole shebang, with a bonfire and hiking, but it was enough to just cram into a tent together, two best friends with a couple of flashlights and comic books.

They would lay with their heads sticking out of the tent, both looking up at the dark sky, talking for hours about school, their hopes and dreams, their moms, and Barry’s dad until Joe would call them back into the house for the night.

They’re both thinking about those days with a pang as Iris lays down next to him on the blanket, knees bent and hands resting on her stomach. It’s weird to think that those days are over, that it won’t ever be exactly like that ever again.

For a few minutes they listen to each other’s breathing and the sounds of the night, neither willing to finally say what has been shadowing them both since their high school graduation in May. Their boxes are all packed, and Barry’s college move-in is in 13 hours, yet they’ve still found ways to skirt around the conversation.

It’s Barry who caves.

“I already miss you.” He tries to say it casually, like it’s a joke, but he feels the words deep in his bones so they come out gravely anyway. He senses her turn her head briefly to look at him.

“I miss you too.”

For the next part he can’t be quite so near to her, so he sits up and wraps his arms around his legs, looking anywhere but at her. “Iris—I’m afraid that—I’m worried about us. What if college makes us grow apart? What if we’re only friends because we live together? I mean, we’ll probably make new friends—you’ll make new friends who are so much cooler than I am—and we’ll be so busy with school that we won’t have time for each other, and I won’t know what’s going on in your life…” he rushes. Everything that he has tried to avoid thinking comes pouring out in a flood of anxiety. “I’m just—I’m going to miss you a lot. I’m going to miss _us_.”

Iris is sitting up at this point. She lets him voice his worries, the same ones she’s been harboring for three months. When he’s done she rests a hand on his shoulder, and he finally turns and looks into her eyes.

“Bear, I’ve been thinking all that stuff too. But we were best friends for years before you ever came to live with me and my dad. And of course we’ll make new friends, but I don’t care how cool mine will be because none of them will be _you_.”

“But we’ll still be so far from each other,” he protests. “No more dinners together or late nights talking.”

“It’s 2007, ever heard of Skype? And I’ll probably be calling your cellphone so much that you’ll want to chuck it into the ocean,” she tells him, smiling that smile that makes his stomach go all fluttery.

Iris knows him well enough to know that his smile in response still hides lingering apprehension. Her voice drops to a lower level, and she into his eyes. “I’m serious, Barry. I promise I will always have time for my best friend, no matter how crazy things get. We might be apart physically most of the time, but we won’t grow apart.”

She looks at him with so much love, his entire mind shouts at him _Say it now! Tell her how you feel!_

“There’s something else,” he confesses, breaking their eye contact to stare at the pattern on the old blanket.

Something in his tone makes her withdraw her hand that’s been resting comfortably on his shoulder. She crosses her legs to get comfortable. “What is it? Whatever it is you can tell me.”

 _Say it, say it, say it, say it_ , his brain chants. And he’s _trying_ , he really is, but the words won’t come out. His throat constricts and his mouth is suddenly lacking any moisture at all. When he finally glances up and to his left where she sits, their eyes lock, and he’s so sure that she can see it. How can she not see it? For a split second everything around them freezes. It’s as though time freezes, the earth stops rotating on its axis, the insects and woodland creatures in the vicinity hush in anticipation. The moon in all its full glory has beckoned the stars to this quiet moment in a suburban backyard. This is it. The culmination of nearly a decade of companionship between two hearts that are destined to be together, though they may not realize it now.

And then it’s over.

A warm breeze floats through, and the vacuum they’ve been sitting in, the void that has contained nothing but _Barry_ and _Iris,_ vanishes.

Iris has to blink a few times to dislodge the remnants of that second. Now when she’s looking into Barry’s eyes, she sees what she always has. Though she swears…No. No way.

Finally he smiles at her, the solemn air of a confession gone, and she knows she was just imagining whatever it was that she’d glimpsed.

“Never mind. It’s nothing. I just want you to know how important you are to me. You’re my best friend in the world.”

She doesn’t know what triggers the tears— maybe the look she’d imagined, or the earnestness in his voice, or the heavy quality of night around them. Maybe it’s the perfect combination of all those things, but whatever it is, she’s suddenly crying right there. Iris West is not a crier, at least not in front of other people. But she’s being separated from her best friend in less than 24 hours, so she allows herself this rare moment of vulnerability.

After a decade of friendship he knows what she needs from him to be comforted, so he puts an arm around her, gently tugging her to lay back on the blanket with him. She rests her head on the place that connects his shoulder and chest as his hand gently runs up and down her arm.

In the warmth of the late summer air, two best friends lay in each other’s arms with only the twinkling stars, the glowing moon, and the mild wind as witnesses.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I am so so in love with thinking about Barry and Iris's childhood friendship and I love just a little angst so I had to write this. I actually wrote it weeks ago, but halfway through editing I decided I hated it. But 3x09 had me in my feelings so I decided to finish and post, lol. 
> 
> The whole thing was inspired by the song Eavesdrop by The Civil Wars, though it really only comes into play in that last bit. But it's where the title comes from if you were wondering! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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